


A Winter Warmed

by Typewriter_Daydreams



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Original Character(s), Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-08
Updated: 2016-07-08
Packaged: 2018-07-22 09:35:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 19,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7430329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Typewriter_Daydreams/pseuds/Typewriter_Daydreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One cold winter's day, a young elf named Runa makes a desperate attempt to flee into the wilderness and escape from the people who want to exploit her healing magic. Along the way she meets a bitter goblin recluse named Gustaf who, like her, has sought refuge from the war in the untamed mountain wilds. Gustaf fancies himself content with his life of solitude, his only companion his hunting fox named Emile. But Runa's presence soon has Gustaf questioning whether he has been hiding from the war, or from himself all these years.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Runa's heart pounded at twice the rate of her feet. The snow swirled up around her face, clinging to her eyelashes and lips, chilling her right down to her frigid bones. The sound of dogs was farther off now. Perhaps the blizzard was slowing their pursuit. The young elf allowed herself a moment of hope before she heard the tell-tale howling of the hounds that signaled they had found her trail again.

Although her feet were wrapped up in so many layers that her toes had no room to move, the cold still found a way to creep in. It was getting harder to run. She’d already slowed her pace once and was now forced down to a steady jog. Plumes of cloudy breath escaped from between her lips. The icy air she sucked into her lungs numbed her throat and made the roots of her teeth throb with pain.

Trees, bare and quivering in the winter’s air, began to blur together into a mess of twigs and bark. Panting, the little elf tried desperately to wipe the snow from her eyes. Somewhere off to her right came the sound of a braying hound. She turned sharply to the left and tumbled down a hidden embankment. With a loud crack that she knew would alert the hunters, her foot came crashing down through a frail layer of ice sitting on top a thin stream. Instantly her boots were drenched in the ice water. But there was no time to worry about that now. She had to get away. She would never allow herself to be caught; even if it meant dying trying to escape.

The snowstorm was becoming too thick to see through. Twice she’d nearly run into a tree that popped into visibility no more than three feet ahead of her. As she dodged around the trunk, a low hanging branch, thin and knotted like an old witch's finger, grabbed at her hair and reopened the cut on her brow. The blood barely had time to flow before the cold chilled it into small red crystals.

Runa tested her magic but found her reserves as empty as her stomach. The cut would remain until she had a chance to catch her breath and regain her energy. That chance seemed like a far off dream now. The mountain forest she ran through was becoming increasingly perilous. Not just because of the snow and the cold, but because of the angle her feet tread.

Hopelessly lost and unsure of whether to go up the slope or down, Runa paused a moment in confusion. She hadn’t heard the hounds in almost a quarter mile. Her ragged breath tore through her lungs, burning and freezing at the same time. She wiped her nose with the back of her gloved hand and looked around.

The landscape looked just the same as it had a mile back. Trees loomed overhead, their skeletal frames rattling in the wind. There were no birds here, no animals to speak of. She was utterly alone. If her pursuers didn’t catch her then the cold would surely finish her off.

A heavy stone formed in her stomach. Should she lay down and die? Would that be the more honorable option? Or should she give herself up and become another pawn in the endless war?

She wasn’t given the time to make her choice. The hounds had caught her scent again and were slowly closing in. Runa didn’t even see them until they were upon her. With a shriek she kicked out at the nearest dog as it lunged at her leg. Her foot collided with its heavy chest, knocking it off balance but doing little to slow its attack. A second dog grabbed her calf from behind, sinking its teeth deep within her flesh.

Again, Runa lashed out, but the relentless pursuit had tired her down to the point that moving hurt. The first dog pounced, forcing the elf to the ground. Her head crunched back into the snow, luckily buffered from the hard ground below.

The pinning dog began to howl, calling its masters to it.

Clenching her teeth, Runa groped blindly around, searching frantically for anything of use.

What she found was a pine cone.

Using the only weapon she had, Runa smashed the pine cone into the dog’s head and scraped it as hard as she could over its eyes. The beast whimpered and lost focus, giving Runa just enough time to kick it off her and shake loose the other dog.

Adrenaline coursed through her veins, heating her heart and spurring her feet. This was it. Her last stretch. Her one and only chance to get away. She made the split second choice to run downwards, the angle giving her feet momentum. It was hard to keep her balance as she stumbled down the slope, avoiding the trees and rocks.

Suddenly her feet tread through thin air and Runa found herself falling. About five feet down she smashed into the ground, gravity pulling at her bruised body. She tumbled down and down, over rocks and over twigs. Her skin tore with her clothes. Bruised blossomed as she fell further down the slope. Even as her body struggled to right itself, her limbs grew limp. Black flames licked around her vision and ate away at the bright snow. She rolled until her head slammed into an awaiting stone. It stopped her body and pushed her completely into darkness.

  
  


 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Gustaf trudged through the snow, his head bowed against the biting wind. By his side trotted his fox companion, a creature he affectionately called Emile. On his back hung an old, but faithful, hunting bow. A slew of arrows rattled unused in his quiver. Now, caught up in the middle of the worst snowstorm of the season, Gustaf cursed his procrastination. He had put off hunting until the very last of his food reserves ran out. Sure, the day had started out crisp and clear, but the mountain gods were fickle and the weather was known to change on a whim.

The goblin hunched his back towards the wind and pressed on, drawing the ruffled fur of his coat tighter around his neck and large ears.

“Emile,” he said, his voice barely audible in the howling wind. “We best turn 'round now. There’s no game to be found on a day like this.”

Looking up at his friend with large brown eyes, the snow colored fox let out a whimper. Emile had been tracking an unusual scent for the last quarter hour, and was reluctant to give up the hunt.

“It’s not worth freezing to death out here,” Gustaf said in response to his pet’s protests.

Tilting his head to the sky, Emile sniffed the air. Then he ducked down, burying his nose in the snow and turning up some soggy pine needles.

Gustaf shook his head. He was hungry and cold and in no mood to stay outside longer than needed.

“Do what you want, but I’m going back,” grumbled the short green man.

With a huff and a sniff, Emile pressed onwards. His quarry was close and Emile knew that Gustaf would continue to follow him, at least for a little while.

Letting out a quick _yip_ , Emile leaped forward and bounded through the snow.

“Daft beast," murmured Gustaf. Hunger pushed him onwards, coaxing him against his better judgment to follow his fox.

The snow was so thick in the air that the only way to track Emile was to bow his head to the ground and follow the footprints laid out before him. The snow was getting deeper. It was nearly up to Gustaf's knees now. Progress was slow but Emile had been so enthusiastic that Gustaf hoped it would be worth it. His stomach demanded satisfaction.

Daring a peek through the curtain of snow, Gustaf saw the trail of pawprints lead behind the corner of a large rock formation just a few feet away. Emile’s excited _yips_ told the goblin that the fox had found his quarry.

“What've you found for me this time, old friend? A rabbit? A boar perhaps? Whatever it is, it better be-”

The words were stolen from his throat as he rounded the edge of the rock and saw what it was that Emile had led him to. In the snow lay the partially buried body of a medium sized humanoid. Who or what it was remained to be discovered.

With a sideways glare towards the fox, Gustaf growled, “We trudged two miles in the snow for _this_? I don’t think so. Find us something to eat or you starve tonight.”

Emile whimpered and pawed at the lifeless body.

In turn, Gustaf pulled down his scarf so the fox could hear him clearer. “I’m not a troll, I don’t eat other people. If this is your idea of a meal then by all means, indulge.”

Unable to understand the common language of the horde, Emile merely peered up at his friend, silently trying to communicate his intentions. When Gustaf turned to leave, Emile jumped up and grabbed him by the boot.

“Get off!” Gustaf shouted over the wind, giving a kick to dislodge the fox.

A low growl rumbled from Emile’s throat as he dared to maintain eye-contact with his master.

Rolling his shoulders and sighing heavily, Gustaf gave in to Emile’s begging. He knelt by the chilled body and dusted off the layer of snow that had collected on the corpse. The body belonged to a female elf, young by the looks of it; but then again, elves never really seemed to age.

Gripping the finger of his glove between his sharp teeth, Gustaf pulled it off and placed his wide hand over her throat. He was mildly surprised to the faint beat of life pulsing warm under her skin.

Eyes narrowing, Gustaf glared over at Emile.

“Okay, the girl's alive, I’ll give you that much. But what do you expect me to do about it?”

Of course he knew his fox well enough to know the answer. Never-the-less, Emile flattened his ears and sat. His big bushy tail flung snow around as it swished over the ground.

Gaze returning to the frozen girl, Gustaf assessed the situation. On his tallest of days he’d barely reach her waist. Scrawny and malnourished as the elf may be, it would still be an ordeal to get her back to the warmth of his home in the caves.

“I don’t suppose you’ll be helping me?” he grumbled at his fox.

Emile tilted his head to the side, the glimmer of a fox-smile glinting in his mischievous eyes.

Replacing his glove and pulling his orange scarf back over his mouth, Gustaf dug his hands under the elf’s body. His legs strained as he lifted her, slinging her heavy form over his shoulder as he sometimes did when carrying big game home.

The trek back was slow and laborious. Although the storm had died down considerably, snow still fell in heavy waves, edged on by the wind. A shiver went through Gustaf’s body, echoed by the elf he carried.

Emile, meanwhile, trotted around Gustaf, sniffing and yipping happily, completely oblivious to the cold or the plight of his master.

The veil of snow began to part gradually, fading with every step. The nearer Gustaf drew to his cave, the cleared the sky became until, at last, the snow stopped entirely. By the time he reached his home, he had resorted to dragging the elf through the snow. There was a long trail leading right up to the conveniently hidden entrance to his cave in the rocks. He mumbled his disapproval while he hauled the girl inside.

The cave had a bottleneck entrance that gradually widened into a large room. A smoldering fire in the center warmed the entire cave. A pile of furs in the corner made a bed. Gustaf didn’t have many worldly possessions. He didn’t need them.

Almost carelessly, Gustaf dropped the elf next to the fire.

Emile came over and licked her face.

“What has you feeling so affectionate?” Gustaf wondered aloud as he ripped off his scarf and gloves and pulled the boots off his dripping feet. He stirred the fire back into existence, teasing flames from the burnt logs. Once the fire was purring contentedly, Gustaf put on a kettle to boil.

Clapping his hands, he held his numb fingers over the fire, rubbing the life back into them. When he was thoroughly warmed he turned his attention back to the elf his fox now lay protectively over.

Emile moved when Gustaf neared, settling down on the other side of the fire. He curled up and pretended to sleep, but Gustaf saw that his fox kept one watchful eye cracked open. Encouraged slightly by his fox’s apparent affections for the elf, Gustaf set to work reviving her.

He wiped the caked blood off her forehead, deeming the cut shallow enough to ignore. His stubby fingers wove through her cascade of golden hair, feeling her scalp for any hidden injuries. There was a small bump, but nothing else worth noting.

Her skin was deathly cold. For a moment he wondered if she’d survived the trip and had to double check her pulse. It was faint, but still there.

First, he pulled off her shoes. Five little toes, one more than Gustaf had, were tinged blue. Sitting down by the fire, the goblin pulled her feet into his lap and began to rub them with his thumbs. Very slowly the color returned to her skin.

He’d just finished with the other foot when his kettle began to sing. As soon as Gustaf stood, Emile replaced his furry body on the elf girl’s feet. Cocking a curious brow, Gustaf muttered some obscenity at the fox and paced to the other side of the room. Heaped on top of a flat rock he used as a makeshift shelf was a pile of cloth, all scraps from various sources. He took a handful of the rags and soaked them in the boiling water.

Gustaf had intended to use the rags to warm up the elf but he ran into a problem. Her clothes were drenched with melting snow, keeping her body temperature low and thwarting the fire’s efforts to warm her.

He ran a hand through his greasy red hair, sighing between his teeth.

There was no other choice.

Slowly, he peeled off her clinging clothes, laying them out flat on the cave floor. At first he told himself that after all the trouble he’d gone through to save her life, the least he deserved was a guilt-free peek. But shame overtook him at the thought and he respectfully kept his eyes averted when possible.

After covering her bare skin with the warm cloth, Gustaf proceeded to massage her hands, bringing warmth and blood flow back to her fingers. Her ears, like his, were long. But the elf’s were slender, easily susceptible to the cold. Quickly, and somewhat cautiously, he tended to her ears, giving them the same treatment as her feet and hands.

It gave him a long, uninterrupted, moment to look her over. Her hair, long and honey colored, splayed out like a halo around her narrow face. She had a splattering of freckles and, judging by her complexion, she didn’t get outside much. Strange, considering how far into the wilderness she'd wandered.

Eventually Gustaf rose and dragged over some of the furs he used as a bed.

“Out of the way, Emile.”

The fox sneezed and rose, casually stretching out before moving.

Tucking the warm and fluffy pelts under the elf, Gustaf was satisfied that he had done everything in his power to revive her. All that was left to do was to wait. In the mean time he might as well make dinner from what little scraps were left in the pantry.

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

Runa was coaxed back to the waking world by a slow warming in her limbs. At first she was only distantly aware of the noise of close movement, but as the chill receded from her skin to her muscles and finally to her bones, her senses sharpened. She could smell a wonderfully rich stench hanging thick in the air. Slowly, her eyes fluttered open. Muted colors swirled through her vision, melting and morphing like a distant sunset.

Something wet pressed against her cheek. Curious, though groggy, Runa raised her hand and felt the short fur of a creature’s muzzle. As her vision cleared, she found herself gazing into the most beautifully intelligent eyes of a forest fox the color of clouds on a rainy day.

The clink of metal rang as loud as a bell in her skull. Runa groaned softly, closing her eyes and trying to push the ache from her brain.

“Hm,” muttered a distinctly male voice. “So you’re finally waking up. I was beginning to have my doubts that you would.”

Eyes snapping open, Runa sat up. Soft fur brushed down her body and instinctively she clutched at it. Only then did she realize she was naked. Humiliation pulsed red in her cheeks.

Across from a crackling fire sat a small goblin. His large ears quivered as he chewed the gummy meat from his soup. With every bite his sharp teeth flashed in the dim firelight. He was watching her with a curious expression.

“Who are you?” she demanded, eying the strange green man warily. Runa’s grip on her covering tightened as she pulled the fur closer.

“Good question,” he replied between mouthfuls. “I’d ask you the same.”

“Don’t play games with me,” Runa warned. “Where are my clothes? Did you…?”

Gustaf paused his chewing for a moment, watching the hostility glow in the elf’s green eyes. After a moment he resumed crunching on his meal of bone and tendons, replying when convenient, “No, I didn’t touch you. I’m a man, not a beast.”

“The two are one in the same in my experience,” Runa hissed.

“Your clothes are there,” he said with a nod in their general direction. “But if I were you, I’d allow them a few more hours to dry.”

Runa held his gaze with her emerald glare, her eyes only leaving his for a quick glance over to her clothes.

“Are you hungry?”

She couldn’t deny that she was.

“Here,” said Gustaf, reaching over and handing her a his half-full bowl. “I’m Gustaf, by the way.”

Runa sipped at the meaty broth. The heat flowed down her throat, pooling satisfyingly in her stomach.

“Why did you bring me here?” she asked.

“Would you have rather I left you out in the cold?”

“I thought I was dead.”

“So did I.”

Emile nuzzled up against Runa, tasting her soup when she wasn’t watching.

“He likes you,” remarked Gustaf after a beat of silence.

“You didn’t answer my question,” growled the elf.

Sighing and pressing his fingers to the bridge of his nose, Gustaf grumbled, “Emile, my fox, wanted me to. I don’t know why so don’t bother asking. Now, your name?”

“Runarora. Although… I guess you can call me Runa. Everyone else did.”

Arching an eyebrow, Gustaf questioned, “Did?”

Runa had almost relaxed, but Gustaf’s interest renewed her tension. Eyes narrowing, she refused to say more.

Gustaf, quite finished with his food and with nothing left to distract him, was growing irritated. His jaw clenched and his pointed teeth ground into one another. “Look,” he snarled. “I don’t usually deal with other people, let alone drag their lifeless corpse back to _my_ home, warm them up by _my_ fire, and save them from the clutches of death. If you’d rather be out in the snow then by all means, there is the door, little fel eyes.”

At his harsh words, Runa’s expression softened.

“Do you live up here all alone?” she asked.

The goblin nodded.

“And you have no dealings with anyone else?”

He stroked his chin thoughtfully and replied, “Not besides the occasional trader. And my fox.”

Shoulders relaxing and posture softening, Runa began to open up like a flower in the morning. She let the bowl of soup rest in her lap, losing her thoughts in its swirling mess of old meat and salty brew.

“Thank you, for everything you’ve done for me.”

Slightly taken aback by her sudden change in demeanor, Gustaf muttered an acceptance of her gratitude.

They sat a moment in silence before he asked, “Are you going to finish that?”

She handed over the bowl, Gustaf's fingers brushing against hers as he reached for it.

“Your hands are still cold,” he remarked as he drank up Runa’s left over meal. “What are you doing so far out in the wilderness? And in the middle of winter none-the-less.”

“I, um… I was running away,” she replied slowly, wondering how much she should reveal.

He made a motion for her to continue.

Pulling her knees up to her chest, Runa let a curled lock of hair slip from behind her ear. She peered cautiously at Gustaf with a sideways glance.

"I was afraid. This war has killed so many of my friends. I couldn't bear to see any more death."

"Hm,” hummed Gustaf. “There isn’t a settlement around here for miles. You’ve run far, pursued over a great distance, I assume. Which leads me to think there’s something you aren’t telling me.”

"There were people out there who wanted to exploit me. Use me. So I ran."

She turned her head, revealing her glimmering eyes. Gustaf huffed and turned away from her tear streaked face.

“Might I stay here for the night?” she asked.

“Sleep by the fire. It will keep you warm. Your clothes will be dry by morning.”

With nothing left to do, and an awkward silence looming in the air like a poisonous aura, Gustaf retreated to his bed in the corner. He fluffed up all the furs and skins and buried himself beneath their heavy warmth.

Runa, with one little fur blanket wrapped around her, scooted as close to the withering fire as she dared. Emile slunk over to her, providing a breathing pillow for her sore and tender head.

Gustaf watched Runa from the shadows of the cave, wondering why Emile was so enthralled with her. That fox hated strangers. It didn’t make any sort of sense. But Gustaf was too tired to worry about it and sleep soon overtook his weary mind.

 


	4. Chapter 4

When he awoke in the morning Gustaf was surprised to see Runa awake and dressed. In all honesty he had forgotten about her and the jolt of her memory was a shock to his system. Unsure of what to do or what to say, he went about his usual morning routine as if she weren’t there. It might not have been the best way to handle things, but it did give his groggy mind a chance to wake up and process the previous day’s events.

Eventually, after the silence had stretched on for too long, he peered outside and said, “The snow is lighter today, but I still wouldn’t suggest traveling in it.”

He wasn’t sure why he said it. It implied that he was allowing her to stay longer. Goblins, known for their selfish and greedy nature, were not regarded as kind or patient. The truth of the matter was that he wanted Runa to leave. Her being here had thrown off the whole balance of his day.

He was eager to get back to his routine. Working day in and day out, looking out for no one but himself. His survival depended on him and him alone; no one else mattered. Except for maybe Emile, but the fox was quite capable of taking care of himself.

Thinking about it brought a bitter taste to his mouth.

Shaking away the sudden change in mood, Gustaf set about readying his equipment for the day’s hunt. He was just on the verge of forgetting about the quiet elf when she spoke.

“It’s quite cold in here.”

He looked up. The fire he kept perpetually burning through winter was sputtering its last dying breath. Chewing his lip, Gustaf’s attention turned to Runa.

“I’ll, uh, get some more firewood when I go out.”

She gave him a half-smile, a crooked thank you.

A funny feeling was stirring in the pit of Gustaf’s stomach. He didn’t like it. He didn’t like it one bit.

“Here,” he said, unwinding his orange scarf from around his neck. “You can use this to keep warm until then.”

Runa took the scarf gratefully.

“You’re really going out in such bad weather?” she asked.

The concern in her voice caught him off guard. “Yeah,” he muttered back. “I’m not in the mood for another day of bone meal stew.”

“Be careful,” Runa said.

Gustaf ground his teeth with slight irritation, slung his hunting gear across his back, and trudged outside. This… this _tall person_ was worried about him. He chewed at his bottom lip while sorting through the new tide of thoughts. His simple life had never felt so complicated. Why was an elf worried about his well-being?Why could he seem to think of nothing else?

A twig cracked somewhere off in the distance.

Emile’s ears swiveled to catch the sound. A low growl came from deep within his throat as he instinctively crouched low.

Gustaf, having heard the noise too, brought out his bow and nocked an arrow. His boots were heavy and crunched noisily. Emile, light on his tiny paws, bounded soundlessly through the snow, tracking their quarry. The goblin and his fox had been an inseparable and perfectly attuned hunting team for more than a decade now. Emile’s reflexes were slowing down with age, but he still knew his role and did it well.

Emile yipped in excitement, snapping at the heels of the unfortunate animal that lost its life to Gustaf’s arrow. One shot and it was dead. From that distance Gustaf couldn’t quite tell what he had killed. It looked large, a brown boar maybe, though they weren’t common during this time of year.

His fox leaped over the corpse, circling it and nipping at the warm flesh.

“Calm yourself,” Gustaf said. “And let’s see what we’ve caught.”

He was surprised to find a dead dog, a hunting hound by the look of it. Instantly Gustaf bristled, the hairs on the back of his neck rising with dread. Unless this dog was lost, there was another hunter nearby. A human hunter.

As if sensing his master’s discomfort, Emile grew tense. His ears perked up for the sounds of danger.

“Let’s get this home,” Gustaf said, grabbing the large beast by the hind-paw. “At least we’ll have some meat to last through the week.”

Renewed happiness blossomed in Emile’s step at the sound of Gustaf’s calm words.

“Hey! Get back here,” snapped Gustaf with a playful ring in his voice. He hoisted the dog onto his back. “Get behind me and clear these tracks. I don’t want no humans following us home.”

Obedient as always, Emile took his place walking behind Gustaf. He let his long, enormously fluffy tail, drag in the snow, disturbing the footprints he and the goblin left behind. With any luck a fresh layer of snow would cover up the remainder of their tracks.

 

Runa perked up when Gustaf trudged back into the cave.

“Welcome back,” she said.

Gustaf's eyes, the color of newly sprouted plants in the spring, darted over to her. He frowned, seeing that she had managed to rekindle the fire using a few twigs from the trees outside. It was frigidly cold in the cave, almost as bad as it was outside, though without the added bite of wind chill.

“I forgot the fire wood,” he said bluntly.

Before she could reply, Gustaf grabbed his ax and skinning knives and left outside again. Emile, who usually stuck around in hopes of meat scraps, retreated into the cave. Gustaf grumbled and set to work alone. He skillfully skinned the dog, setting some meat aside for dinner while preserving the rest in a bear-proof box.

“Emile!” he called into the cave.

His fox trotted out.

Gustaf gave him a wiry smile. “Oh, so you do like me more than your new friend, huh? Come on, let’s go get that firewood.”

Together, he and his pet hiked a good half mile out before Gustaf set to work chopping up a tree. He constantly worried about someone finding his home. He was always careful to cover his tracks and leave no sign of his presence. It had been many years since he had seen another person so close to his home. And now, within a day of each other, he had found an elf and a human’s hunting dog. Not good. Not good at all.

 


	5. Chapter 5

“Mm, Gustaf, this soup is delicious,” complemented Runa as she greedily slurped down the remainder of the brew. “Is this rabbit?”

“Dog, actually,” Gustaf remarked offhandedly.

Runa sputtered, choking as a chunk of meat lodged itself in her throat, refusing to go down. Now that her food had a name, her stomach lurched, threatening to expel everything she’d just eaten. Emile, displeased by the noise and disturbance, growled softly and slunk to the other side of the snapping fire.

“It’s _what_?” she asked in disbelief.

Glaring at her from over his own bowl, Gustaf grumbled, “I forgot you elf creatures are picky about your food.”

She crossed her arms indignantly and replied, “I’m not picky, I just think it’s a little weird to eat someone’s pet. How would you like it if someone killed and ate Emile?”

Upon hearing his name, Emile perked up, wondering why both Runa and Gustaf were looking at him.

Shrugging, Gustaf returned to his meal and said, “Who knows, maybe he’d taste good.”

“Do all goblins put up this kind of cold front?”

Lime eyes narrowing, Gustaf growled, “What do you mean?”

Runa threw up her hands in an exaggerated show of exasperation. “Well I don’t know. First you save me, take me into your home, feed me, and shelter me. And yet... you still try to make me feel unwelcome, guilty even. Then you talk about eating Emile so nonchalantly. I thought you loved him like a friend. I just… I just don’t understand.”

“First off, goblins don’t _love._ It’s not in our nature.” Gustaf didn’t have a second point, so he just continued along his natural thought train. “The weather should clear up by tomorrow. You can leave then.”

Runa’s lips twitched and her gaze flickered down. “Gustaf, I think I should tell you that the dog you killed was probably after me. Those humans have been tracking me for days. The whole reason why I am out here is to escape from them. They want me to join their side of the war. They-”

“Not my problem,” Gustaf grunted.

Her bright eyes darted up to his. “If they catch me they’ll force me into their military. Into your _enemy's_ army.”

“Well you can't stay here. This forest isn’t a place for a soft and pampered elf.” he growled as he stood. “Humans are not my enemy, they are the horde's enemy. I care nothing for this petty war.”

Emile, sensing the tension in the room, drew up to his master’s side and licked at his hand. Gustaf shooed him away.

“Gustaf, I-”

Again he cut her off. This time by saying, “Look. Look at me. The tall races see me as nothing more than a mean and nasty and filthy goblin. Nothing but cannon fodder. They think I'll blow myself up with tinkering eventually, why not direct that destruction at the enemy? You think you're the only one they're trying to drag into war? There's a reason I live alone. And live alone I did, quite happily I might add, untilI met you.”

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to... well... I don't think you are mean, nasty, or filthy.”

Gustaf, angered by Runa’s words and feeling squeamish about her presence, snapped his teeth together and hissed at his fox to come. Together they stalked out of the cave, leaving Runa alone with a half finished bowl of soup made from the dog who had attacked her.

 

* * *

The crisp air was cold and dry, but it wasn’t enough to dampen the flame that raged within Gustaf’s chest. His teeth chattered and his skin was numb. He missed his favorite orange scarf, the one he had foolishly given to Runa. He wanted to curse her for it, but he knew that it was an irrational anger.

Emile was frolicking up ahead. He leaped through the snow, soaring over logs and rocks like a flightless eagle. Even though he was quickly getting on in years, Emile never lost the youthful spring in his step.

Just as Emile disappeared over a snowy embankment, a shrill screech tore through the air, sending a wave of startled crows into flight.

Gustaf’s heart skipped a beat and sank deep into the recesses of his worst nightmare. His green face grew pale as he bolted over the hill. Emile was thrashing about on the ground, his leg caught in a metal trap.

“Stop, Emile, stop!” Gustaf shouted. “You’ll only damage it further!”

The poor fox whimpered and grew still, his complete trust in Gustaf evident by his obedience.

“I should have known,” growled the goblin. “Those damned humans are laying traps in my land. It’ll be hell to pay if I ever catch one.”

Luckily, Gustaf knew enough about human traps to disarm the foul device. He was able to free Emile, but the damage had been done. Emile’s little leg was crushed by the iron jaws. Thick red blood oozed from between shards of bone.

Gustaf was not a squeamish person, but even he had a hard time looking at the wound. Fear bubbled in his stomach. Emile was his friend, his companion. He couldn’t lose the fox. Not now. Not like this.

Gingerly lifting Emile, Gustaf rushed him back home. For once he didn’t stop to cover his tracks, he didn’t care. All that mattered was Emile and his survival. Already his mind was frantically searching through its archives, looking for any information on how to treat a wound of this severity.

Emile’s breathing was becoming erratic.

“Hold on, buddy. We’ll be home soon.”

Gustaf stumbled into his cave. Hastily, he set Emile down on the bed then ran over to the other side of the room. He dug through all his equipment, looking for something, anything, to help.

“What happened?” asked Runa.

Gustaf turned to see her crouching worriedly over Emile.

“Get away from him!” snapped the goblin, rushing over and pushing her aside.

“I can help,” she said quickly.

“You’ll only make it worse,” he insisted as he began to clean Emile’s shattered leg.

“Gustaf,” Runa said gently, placing her hand upon his shoulder.

He shrugged her off, not in the mood to argue.

“Gustaf,” she said a little more forcefully. “I can help him. You don’t have the right medical equipment to take care of him.”

“And you do?” he growled, the fear of losing his friend planting daggers in his tone.

Runa gave him a pleading look. Gustaf ground his sharp fangs together and moved aside reluctantly.

Very lightly, as softly as a feather, she placed her hands upon Emile’s leg. Closing her eyes, Runa drew up the energy she had been storing, forming it into a powerful magic that surged through her veins with a holy light. In her mind’s eye she reached out for Emile. She felt his pain like a knife in the dark. It was tangible, moldable. With some skill and a little luck, she was able to absorb the fox’s pain, internalize it, and transform it.

Her own energy, the fuel that powered her magic, was quickly draining. It dipped so low that she even had to use the reserves of her life force. Too much for a sustained time would kill her.

She sucked in a quivering breath and continued to move her holy light over the wound. Even as her hands shook she felt the magic take hold. Bones mended, muscle stitched together, and skin regrew over where the trap had latched. It took some work but she was able to heal his wound entirely.

“He’s alright now,” Runa said with a reverent hush. Her head was light, her energy drained once again. She pressed a hand to her eyes, shrouding her vision in welcoming darkness.

Blinking down at Emile, Gustaf was at a loss for words. Eyes narrowing, he asked suspiciously, “If you’re a healer then why haven’t you mended the cut on your head?”

Absentmindedly, Runa touched the scab. “It would take more effort than it’s worth.”

The goblin shook his head, his red pony tail bobbing as he did so. “These have been dark times. As far as I had known, the Light had been lost to those in this part of the world. Are you alright?”

Runa’s milky white skin had gone ashen.

“I’m fine. I just need to sit down a moment.” With a long exhale Runa sank to the ground. “My power is still weak, my connection to the Light... severed.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Not many do. My um... addiction, I guess you would call it, controlled me for many years. By the time I realized how far I had fallen, I could no longer feel any connection to the Light. But the power to fuel my magic has to come from somewhere if not the Light. In this case, I draw it from my life-force. Every heal, every spell, shortens my life. Sometimes by minutes, sometimes by days. It all depends.”

Gustaf stared at her, mouth slightly agape. Then he mumbled, “I’m not sure I am comfortable with your methods.”

“You trust me, don’t you?”

He grunted, neither an affirmative nor a denial.

“Well, then trust that I know how to handle my own magic. Elves live a very long time. Losing a few days off my life expectancy is well worth saving the life of a friend.”

Gustaf ran his hand over Emile’s fluff of fur. Although he wouldn’t admit it, he was impressed and awed by Runa’s ability and her sacrifice. Without her Emile could have been permanently scarred, or worse.

The fox let out a contented sigh as Runa pulled Emile's head into her lap.

Her smile disarmed Gustaf. Her optimistic nature bothered him right down to his bitter core, but after everything she did to help Emile, the least Gustaf could do was shelter her until the weather cleared.

“About, uh, about the snow,” he began awkwardly. “The weather here is rather sporadic. I suppose it’d be okay if you stayed a few more days. Just to make sure another storm isn’t blowing in.”

Runa’s lips parted into a warm smile. “Thank you, Gustaf. I appreciate it.”

“Yeah,” he muttered, scratching the back of his head with his large flat hand.

"You know," Runa twittered. "The closer I am to someone, the easier it is for me to heal them. I could feel Emile's pain even before you brought him home. He trusts you greatly, you know. I can feel that too."

"Is that so?" asked Gustaf gruffly, flopping back against the pile of furs and pelts he called a bed. Closing his eyes, Gustaf let out a long and shaky breath. He'd come so close to losing Emile. The reality of the situation was just now sinking in.

"He's okay now," Runa reminded him.

Gustaf cracked an eye open. "Eh?"

"I know you're worried about him. I can sense the tide of your emotions. Despite everything you've said, you don't really want to be alone."

Gustaf snorted and rolled onto his back, closing his eyes against Runa's observations. A small part of him hoped that if he didn't see the problem, he wouldn't have to deal with it. Sure, he was worried about Emile. And maybe, just maybe, he wasn't keen on the idea of spending his entire life alone. But who was Runa to call him out on it? What would a silly fel-eyed elf know of loneliness anyway?

He felt the bed shift and a moment later there were hands on his belt buckle.

"Whoa, hey!" Gustaf exclaimed, his hands grabbing onto Runa's. His body snapped into a sitting position. He looked up at her warily, questioning the amused smile painted on her rosy lips.

"I've seen the spark of desire in your eyes when you think I'm not looking," she said with a warm hush in her voice.

Gustaf blushed violently, his gaze shifting away. "You don't have to do this."

"I want to."

"Why?" he demanded. “I’m twice your age and half your size.”

"I know you don't want to be alone. I know you tell yourself that it’s okay to hide the pain that loneliness has caused you. Let me show you that you aren't alone. Tell me you don't want this."

He said nothing.

 Runa didn't try to hide her triumphant smile. "Good. Now, lie down and relax."

She pulled her hands free and positioned Gustaf's on his thighs. Playfully, she shoved his chest and forced him down onto his back. She could feel his nervousness pounding behind his ribs. Her touch sent waves of heat coursing through Gustaf's body. Fear and excitement mingled to create a shock of adrenaline. His breath hitched at the rush.

Runa’s hands wandered down his chest, undoing the buttons of his shirt. One by one they popped free, each one a stepping stone down to unfamiliar territory. Her fingers trailed across the hard muscle of Gustaf’s stomach, tracing the lines etched into his skin. Her nails tickled him all the way down to his hairline.

Gustaf wanted to watch but he found his eyelids fluttering shut at the sound of his belt unbuckling.

A pleased smile graced Runa’s lips at the sight of Gustaf’s aroused manhood. She tugged at his pants, revealing his full length. Starting at his green base and moving her way up to the deliciously pink tip, Runa kissed him lightly.

The thrill of her simple touch drew a soft murmur from Gustaf’s throat.

After she had kissed him all over, Runa began at the base again, this time licking her way up his shaft, ending with a swirl of her tongue around his head.

Gustaf squirmed pleasantly, relishing Runa’s every movement.

He gasped quietly when the warmth of her lips enshrouded his length.

Runa continued to work him over, her mouth massaging him, her tongue exciting him.

Gustaf found it hard to keep his hips from bucking. The longer she worked, the harder it was to control himself.

Her moist tongue ran up and down his cock, circling around and under the curve of his head. A slight nip at his shaft made him jump then sigh as he relaxed further. His apprehensions were quickly evaporating as he lost himself to the pleasure of Runa’s touch. There was a warm glow deep inside him, a feeling he hadn’t recognized at first, but that now worried him.

Runa purred deep in her throat, her voice vibrating through his skin, teasing Gustaf’s nerves.

Again he had to resist the urge to grind his hips, preferring to allow Runa complete control over his senses.

She pulled away slightly, her hand replacing her lips. The chilled air sent shivers across his body. The cold was heightened by the absence of Runa’s tongue. With a slight squeeze she teased him with a new sensation. Slowly, she ran her clenched hand up and down, up and down, varying the pressure to keep Gustaf guessing.

His eyes were still closed, his brow furrowed.

She liked watching the pleasure tint his cheeks with a soft blush. She liked watching the way his breathing changed depending on her touch. After a brief moment of watching him and resting her mouth, Runa leaned back down and took Gustaf by surprise again.

It was too much.

He grabbed her head, fingers winding through her hair.

Runa pressed down, drawing him in deeper, humming again to startle his nerves. Gustaf inhaled sharply, his hold on her tightening. Suppressing a smile, Runa pulled her lips up his shaft, trailing her tongue up and over the tip. Again she pressed down, pushing him still deeper. He groaned as she repeated the process, each time delving slightly further until her nose brushed against the coarse hair of his loins.

Gustaf’s hips rolled, desire quickly unwinding his self-control.

Runa pulled away again, leaving him exposed and cold.

The bed shifted. Daring to crack his eyes open, he found himself looking up at Runa as she peeled away her clothing, shrugging off her heavy winter coat and stepping out of her leggings.

Gustaf swallowed and remembered to breathe.

Runa had him straddled between her naked thighs. Cautiously, he placed his hands upon her legs, feeling the soft skin beneath his calloused palms.

Her spine curled forward as she placed a gentle kiss upon his forehead. Shifting her weight, Runa eased herself down upon Gustaf’s erect member.

Together they sighed as she pressed him into her body, muscles clenching deliciously around him. The heat of her body was intoxicatingly divine. Runa began to grind against him, her movements tight and precise.

Gustaf's fingers dug into her thigh, clenching in anticipation.

The pressure was building.

Runa leaned back, her slender figure in full view. Gustaf ran his hands down her legs. She was softer than the furs he was nestled in. He loved the feel of her muscles working to push her body up and down on him, drawing satisfaction from the friction.

She mewled, the sound of her pleasure nearly pushing him over the edge.

“Ah,” Gustaf gasped, a throb telling him he was close.

Runa smiled, increasing her speed.

Gustaf tossed his head back in ecstasy. The warmth deep within was growing rapidly. It was becoming unbearable. All he wanted was to find that sweet release.

Runa could feel his need. She wanted to satisfy him.

She thrust her arms forward, pinning his shoulders down with her delicate hands.

Gustaf grabbed her behind, squeezing the succulent flesh as Runa continued to bounce. As she pressed down, he pressed up burying himself deeper and deeper. They fell into a prefect rhythm for a few beats until, with a loud cry, Gustaf found his release.

Runa sighed contentedly, feeling him pulse within her.

After a moment of savoring the glow of their passion, Runa rolled onto her side, still joined with Gustaf.

Twice he opened his mouth to speak, but the words just weren’t there. He was still too overwhelmed. All he could do was pull Runa to him, gripping her waist tightly. He nuzzled against her soft breasts, panting and kissing her affectionately.

In return Runa wrapped her arms around his shoulders, holding him to her. With a twist of her hips they pulled apart.

As the flickering fire died, stealing away the light, the winter’s chill began to creep in. Runa found it hard to keep her eyes open. Sleep pulled at the edges of her mind but a shiver shook her awake.

“Are you cold?” Gustaf asked, the first words he was able to speak

“A little,” she admitted, wondering if he’d banish her back to her bed by the fire now that the fun was over.

“I can get the fire roaring again,” he offered.

“Don’t bother,” Runa whispered, clinging tighter to him.

Gustaf pulled the blankets over the shivering elf, draping the fur over her shoulders. She smiled at him in the encroaching darkness. The firelight lit up her skin with a soft amber glow and for the first time Gustaf allowed himself to admire her openly. They fell asleep curled up together, the heat of their bodies keeping them warm all through the cold winter's night.

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

For the first time in many years, Gustaf slept all through the night. He was awoken by the early morning sun tiptoeing into his cave, dragging in the light. He shifted and rolled over, throwing his arm over Emile. Only, it wasn’t Emile today, it was Runa. She sighed and pressed her back against him.

The shock of another person in his bed jump-started Gustaf’s heart until the memory of the previous night’s events began to slowly seep back into his consciousness. He brushed his stubby fingers through her long hair and traced the curve of her body, feeling the softness of her skin on his palm. The downward taper of her waist followed by the gentle rise of her hip excited the butterflies in his stomach.

He cursed the sun as it swept away the shadows, wishing it would go back below the horizon so he could enjoy a few more hours of sleep.

Runa stirred when Gustaf kissed her bare shoulder.

Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she asked, “Did you sleep well?”

“Yeah, actually I did.” After a moments paused he asked, “Did you?”

“Yes, " she said with a smile as she pulled on her clothes, her skin prickling in the chill between the blankets and cloth.

Gustaf watched her dress, drinking in every detail of her body while he still had the chance. He waited until Runa was fully clothed before slinking out of bed himself.

They didn’t talk about what had happened between them, although after much fumbling with his words, Gustaf did invite her to share his bed. Unfortunately, most nights Emile placed himself between them. After nearly a week had passed Gustaf felt too awkward to make any advances. Much to his dismay, he had begun to think that their passionate night together was a one-time occurrence.

Most nights Runa would toss and turn. Gustaf felt her pulling at the blankets, disturbing Emile who would in turn pester him. Sometimes she would call out in her dreams, a startling noise that instantly jolted him awake.

What was worse, her nightmares seemed to be contagious.

Gustaf awoke several times during the night, haunted by chilling dreams. His heart pounded rapidly against his ribcage and for a moment his vision was white with panic. But then the dream would fade, slipping away like sand through his fingers. He’d forget what had disturbed him so, but the fear lingered like a bitter aftertaste.

His latest nightmare was so riveting that it snapped both Runa and Emile from dreams of their own. Emile licked Gustaf’s face worriedly.

Runa, who usually slept with her back to him, turned over and asked, “What’s wrong, Gustaf?”

“Nothing,” he grumbled, irritated.

Even if he couldn’t see her clearly, he felt her peering at him through the darkness.

“It was nothing,” he insisted. “Now go back to sleep.”

Gustaf rolled onto his side, keeping his back to the young elf.

Runa sat up to get a better look at him.

“The weather has been quite pleasant these past few days,” she remarked.

When Gustaf still didn’t reply she continued.

“I was thinking, maybe now would be a good time for me to go. I've burdened you long enough and if the weather holds out long enough then I might be able to make it down the mountain by sunset."

Gustaf felt a stab of pain in his heart. He couldn’t mask the surprise in his voice as he sat up. “You’re leaving?”

“You said it yourself, you never wanted me here. Anyway, I’ll only bring you trouble. When the snow thaws the humans will resume their hunt. I don’t want you to get caught up in my problems.”

“You can stay here,” Gustaf said hastily, his reply clipping Runa’s decision. “As long as you want. I’ll protect you.”

Runa shook her head sadly. “You can’t.”

“Let me try.”

He reached out to her through the thick black of night, but his fingers found nothing but thin air. Out of his reach, Runa wrapped her arms around her middle. A soft sigh escaped from between her lips as she contemplated her options.

It’d be easier on him in the long run if she left now, before he got too attached. This was also the safer option. For Gustaf, anyway. If the humans found her, which she knew they inevitably would, they wouldn't hesitate to rid the world of another goblin.

Runa could not, would not, allow Gustaf to make that sacrifice.

She could sense his mood like a gentle change in the wind. Closing her eyes, she saw him glow with an aura of emotion. He was a kaleidoscope of color, ever changing. There was fear masked by anger pulsing red in his chest. Passion, lust, and affection burned lower, a deep purple. Apprehension and confusion swirled like a yellow mist, colliding with his orange insecurity. Buried amongst everything was the fading light of hope.

All Runa wanted to do was to touch him. Reassure him that everything was going to turn out alright. But she kept her distance. She didn’t grasp his searching hand. Instead she pulled a blanket over to the cold fire pit and curled up to sleep.

 

* * *

 

Runa jolted away, heart pounding. Something moved in the darkness. She felt its presence squirming like a leech within her heart.

Pink fingers raked the early morning sky as the sun stretched, slowly pulling itself from its bed under the horizon. She dressed quickly. Pulling on her boots, Runa grabbed her coat and swung Gustaf’s orange scarf around her neck. Emile, awakened by the sound of movement, was circling her legs.

She pat his head gently, feeling the softness of his fur before sliding on her gloves.

"Watch over Gustaf for me," she whispered.

The fox’s tail wagged tentatively.

Shielding her eyes against the brightness of the coming day, Runa stepped out into the crisp morning air. The sky above was clear and cloudless, an icy blue reminiscent of winter’s coldest days. A thick layer of snow covered the ground like a sheet, crisscrossed with tracks and trails of small animals.

Emile bounded into the nearest bush, scaring up a flock of screeching fowl. He snapped at their tail feathers, coming within inches of an early morning snack. His dark eyes found Runa, seeking her approval.

"Emile, go home," she commanded.

Emile had snowflakes in his whiskers and sneezed with a twitch.

Runa shook her head and said, "Suit yourself."

She began crunching through the snow, feeling her way through the ethereal world. The darkness within wriggled and pulsed. It sickened her in a way she had never felt. There was pain emanating from a nearby creature. It called to her soundlessly. Runa felt its fear, felt it plead for help. She pushed onwards as the weather steadily worsened.

The sky had seemed agreeable when she first left, but now a cold wind came howling through the trees. Storm clouds were brewing like a thick milky tea overhead. The veil of snow was thickening, threatening to fill in the footprints Runa was using to navigate.

A sudden gust of wind grabbed at Runa’s coat, ripping the scarf from off her neck.

“Oh!” she cried out, reaching for it, but the wind blew snow in her eyes and pushed her back. It was falling so heavy now that she could barely see the indentations left by her boots. Emile was having a hard time moving in the ever deepening snow. He was no longer bouncing, but dragging himself through, creating a deep trench.

“Come here,” coaxed Runa, pulling the fluffy creature up into her arms.

Snow swirled around them like a cyclone of white. The cold bit at Runa’s nose and nibbled at the tips of her ears. Unfamiliar with the area, she reached out with her mind, probing the life web for her quarry.

“Emile,” she shouted over the screaming wind. “Can you smell a bear around here? There should be a den nearby. It’s very close.”

The fox closes his eyes and tipped his snout to the wind. Snow was clogging up his nose, but he managed to catch a whiff of something unfamiliar. Squirming in her arms, Emile struggled to lead the way.

After almost a minute of walking blind through the thick fog of snow, Runa felt the ground beneath her boots harden. A moment later a deep burrow appeared along the slope of the mountain. Eager to get out of the cold, Runa stepped inside.

Emile sprung from her arms.

The air was thick and musty. It smelled of wet fur, feces, and decay. Still, it was better than the outside and it was comparatively cleaner than any other animal den she’d ever been in. The bear inside was breathing heavily.

“Hello?” whispered Runa.

The massive beast shifted and snarled weakly.

 "I heard your cry for help. It's alright. I'm here."

The bear dropped its head and rolled to show Runa its belly. There was a long gash bleeding steadily. The smell coming off of the wound was enough to make Runa gag. She forced herself to lay a hand on the beast's stomach.

Summoning up her magic, Runa's fingers began to glow with an intense golden light. She ran her hand over the gash, mending the skin as she poured life back into the bear. Suddenly the bear began to thrash, nearly crushing Runa against the side of the cave.

"Calm down! Calm down!" Runa shrieked.

But the bear was inconsolable. It reared up, ears brushing against the high cave ceiling. Then it fell to the floor, convulsing as it vomited up a mass of black slime.

"Ah!" Runa cried out as the mass began to writhe. A black worm slithered out of the slime and crawled towards the door.

Runa smashed her boot down upon the vile worm and crush it into the ground. She no longer felt the pinpricks of dread and disgust that had been haunting her all morning. Satisfied that it was dead, she turned back to the bear.

The bear moaned once and bumped its nose into Runa's palm.

"That's very strange," she murmured. "Very strange indeed. I've never seen something manifest like that. Emile, come on. It’s okay. She won’t hurt us.”

Emile, wary in the presence of such a large predator, edged closer. Runa pulled him into her arms and leaned up against the hairy flank of the bear. Her fur, coarse, thick, and matted, provided a nice layer of warmth from the pressing chill of the wind. Together, Runa and Emile waited for the storm to subside, each missing the familiar security of Gustaf’s cave.

 

* * *

 

Gustaf was having another nightmare. His dreams were haunted by faceless humans and their hunting dogs. Braying hounds scampered after him, their paws pounding the earth like a stampede of horses. Gustaf was stuck running through impossibly thick air. His legs moved at the speed of a snail while the rest of the world darted around him. Despite all his efforts to escape, the dogs were never far behind. The beasts spoke in a strange and muddled dialect, mirrored by the gruff voices of their human masters.

He tore from the dream with a violent jerk. Out of habit he reached out for Emile, seeking the comfort of his companion’s touch. But the fox wasn’t there. Neither was Runa.

Sitting up, the little goblin found himself entirely alone.

A flurry of emotions raged within his heart. What Runa did with her life was her own business, but could she really be so cruel as to take his only remaining friend? Was Emile so disloyal that he’d abandon ten years of friendship, all for a conniving fel addict?

Gustaf paced the length of his cave, kicking up stones and grinding his sharp teeth together.

The morning was pressing on. Dawn had broken the sky into a mosaic of colorful shards. The sun, lethargically rising, was in the process of sweeping in a crisp blue hue. There was something else stirring in the air. Gustaf could smell an edge to the wind. Although the weather appeared calm now, he knew a storm was about to break.

He turned away from the door. Determination hardened his heart. If Runa and his best friend had run off together, then he might as well let them freeze. At least Emile would survive it.

A shiver went down his spine as he realized just how cold his thoughts were turning.

Swearing loudly in his native tongue, Gustaf grabbed his boots and jacket and stamped outside. The winds were harsher than he had previously thought. The cold nipped him as ice and snow twirled across his face.

He hoped that Emile had enough sense to find shelter and that Runa had enough sense to follow him.

The slightest indentations of her footsteps were still visible under the ever-mounting layer of new snow. His cold heart thawed as his worry mounted.

“Runa?” he called, his voice stolen by the wind. “Runa!”

The prevailing silence spurred his feet as he continued his search.

The storm was beginning to break. The torrent of snow dwindled down to a lighter deluge. The trees which had previously been hidden behind a curtain of white appeared as dark skeletons. Their bare bone branches quivered in the wind, laughing at Gustaf’s plight.

His heart hammered in his chest when Runa’s trail disappeared entirely.

Amidst a world of white and gray stood out one object of color. Tangled in a nearby bush was the orange scarf he had given her. Gustaf pulled it free, clutching the object tightly to his chest.

Cupping his hands to his mouth, Gustaf shouted out her name again.

Hidden behind the static sound of the rushing wind, the goblin’s large ears picked up the faint sound of a voice.

“Runa?” he called out.

The gnawing cold froze his ears and he questioned whether or not his panic was playing tricks on him. He trudged onward, every couple of steps pausing to cry out again.

At last he heard a reply, one he could be sure of.

The snow parted. The air cleared.

And there, standing with her arms crossed tightly over her chest, was his favorite little elf.

Emile came leaping over, happy to put distance between him and the bear. Runa ran awkwardly through the snow after the fox.

Gustaf couldn’t help but grin stupidly.

“Gustaf!” exclaimed Runa. “What are you doing out here in this weather?”

He blinked back at her, confused. “Me? You’re the one that ran off! I came to get you and bring you back home.”

“Home,” she repeated with a smile. “That sounds nice.”

The crunching of snow alerted Gustaf to a movement behind Runa. His face dropped, the color draining from his skin. Fumbling with his knife he said, “Runa, get behind me.”

Gustaf put himself between Runa and the approaching bear.

The massive beast snorted, her breath creating a cold plume of air before her snout. Her gleaming coal eyes scanned over the goblin and analyzed the sudden fear painted over Runa’s face. After assessing that Gustaf was a threat, the bear let out a rumbling roar and bounded down the slope.

Her fur and muscle rippled as she lumbered towards the newly reunited pair, teeth bared.

“No!” cried out Runa as she darted between Gustaf and the charging bear. “It’s okay!”

The bear slowed, head tilted with new insight.

Gustaf wasn’t convinced. His knuckles whitened around the hilt of his dagger.

“Gustaf…” warned Runa. In order to prove her point she walked composed over to the bear, placing her hand calmly on her neck. “See? She’s friendly.”

“Then why’d it charge?” growled Gustaf.

“Because she was worried about me,” explained Runa, rubbing the bear’s thick pelt. “She wants to know why you threatened her.”

Mumbling and stowing his dagger, Gustaf replied, “Because I was worried too.”

“Nothing but a misunderstanding then,” said Runa with a smile.

The bear grunted and turned in a slow circle as she headed back towards her home.

"If you were going to leave you should have told me. I could have warned you about the approaching storm," he grumbled.

Runa chewed her lip and replied, "I couldn't leave without saying goodbye. But the bear needed me. She called to me and I had to go help. There was something strange infesting her wound. Something I'd never seen before."

“Then… you weren’t leaving?”

Her eyes flickered down. She wrung her hands together. “I know I should probably go… but I want to be with you. At least for a little longer.”

Gustaf took her hand in his and led her back to his cave. With the temperature steadily rising, there was little need to hurry. The snow glimmered in the sunlight like powdered diamonds.

“Your scarf,” said the goblin, offering Runa the torn orange garment.

She took it and wrapped it around her neck gratefully. “I thought it was lost.”

Gustaf ran his free hand through his long thick hair. A hissing sigh escaped from between his teeth. “I, uh, found it while I was looking for you. At first I thought that you had taken Emile and run off. I was furious. But when I saw the scarf I… I thought the worst. I was worried that I’d lost you too. I thought about the day I first found you nearly frozen to death.”

Guided by Gustaf’s expert navigation, they made good time back to the cave. He hadn’t had time to set up a fire so they were welcomed by a cold gust of air swirling through the hollow home.

“I’ll light a fire,” he said, ushering Runa inside. “You warm up a bit.”

Runa obliged, dropping her heavy jacket by the door and pulling her boots off by the fire pit as she made her way over to the bed.

While Gustaf prepared the fire and boiled some water, he found himself stealing glances at her. He felt as if he had to constantly make sure she was there, lest she disappear into the winter’s wind. Of course, Runa eventually noticed Gustaf’s frequent glances. She kept her secret with only a small smile to betray her thoughts.

She pulled off a layer of clothing each time he looked away, careful not to let him see her do it. Each time Gustaf’s gaze lasted longer and longer until she was down to her undergarments and he was downright staring. Eyes wandering back up to her face, Gustaf felt embarrassment burning hot in his ears, spreading quickly over his cheeks.

He wanted her, but he didn’t know how to tell her.

Biting his lip hard, he turned back to the fire.

“How, uh, how are you feeling?” he asked, not turning around.

“Still cold,” she replied, her voice warm and inviting.

Gustaf’s eyes shifted to the side and he was tempted to turn around. Instead he waited for the water to boil and fixed up a pot of tea.

“Here,” he said, handing her a mug. “This should warm you right up.”

She took the tea gratefully and sipped at the steam. “Thank you.”

Gustaf grunted a reply and took her feet in his hands. They were red with cold, icy in his palm. Tenderly, he rubbed the blood back into her toes, his thoughts returning him to the first night he met Runa. He was determined to keep his word and keep her safe, whether that be from humans or from the harsh winter. It was a slow battle to win, pulling the heat from the warmth of her blood and banishing the chill.

Gustaf became so engrossed in his work that Runa’s sudden movements startled him from his thoughts.

“Tickles,” she said with a grin.

“Oh,” mumbled Gustaf, moving his touch up to the tendon behind her ankle. He brushed his hand through the air as if to brush away the thought.

Her toes curled and Gustaf's heart skipped a beat.

Licking his lips, unsure of where his train of thought was taking him, Gustaf grit his teeth against the temptation. His rough hands stroked down the arch of her foot. The long claws on his fingers scraped against the tender flesh. Runa laughed as her foot twitched again.

He glanced up at her from below a deeply furrowed brow.

“Sorry,” Runa said with a sigh. She wondered if Gustaf had lost interest in her. There was only one way to find out. 

Runa shifted so her knees pressed together, rotating her hips slightly as she stretched. Her back arched shallowly, her chest pushed forward subtly. Gustaf’s hands slowed as his eyes drank up her body greedily.

He knew he should make a move, but fear of rejection held him back. Gustaf licked his dry lips, biting them as his tongue receded. It gave him an idea. A way to perhaps test the waters. Tentatively, he raised her foot to his mouth and pressed his lips against the arch. He kissed her again, this time daring to glance up to gauge her reaction.

Runa’s pretty pink lips, the ones that had so tantalizingly pleased him, were pressed into a cool smile.

Gaining confidence, Gustaf nibbled at her toes with his sharp teeth, all the while very careful not to nip too hard. He sucked on one of her smaller toes before returning his lips to the bottom of her foot. He trailed kisses across her ankle and up her calf, pushing her legs apart as he made his way up her thigh. Every few inches he’d nibble at her tender skin, drawing soft gasps from Runa.

He could smell her arousal, sweet and pungent in the air. A cockeyed smile flashed across his face as he hitched his thumbs under her underwear and pulled her panties down over her quivering legs.

Runa leaned back in anticipation.

Gustaf’s lips, though chapped and cracked, were warm against the silky skin of her inner thigh. He worked his way up towards her sweet spot, taking the dive before he quite knew what he was doing. His warm breath stirred up Runa’s heart rate.

His slick tongue ran up through her lips

She purred as his tongue pressed against her most intimate of places. With a gentle suck, he pulled at her, stirring up her nerves. Runa’s back arched, gasping quietly as he slipped a thick finger inside.

The goblin growled approvingly as he savored the forbidden delicacy of her body.

Runa squirmed under the pressure exerted on her clit. Gustaf pulled back his finger, running the flat of his palm down her smooth leg. He pushed her knees further apart, giving him deeper access as he continued to alternately licking and sucking.

Eventually his hand crept back, tracing tickling lines down the inner skin of her thigh. Runa moaned softly when Gustaf slipped his thumb inside her folds. He kneaded her with his lips, flicking his tongue over the most sensitive of places.

Runa cooed with pleasure, her back arching once more.

Gustaf pressed his other thumb into her core, working both fingers in and out as his mouth focused elsewhere.

Runa needed more. She needed him inside her.

She grabbed at his large batty ears, tugging to pull him up. Gustaf obliged, crawling up to kiss her. She parted his lips with her tongue. The sweetness of her mouth coupled with the taste of her arousal was intoxicating. He fumbled with his belt, pulling out his cock.

Gustaf was too short in comparison to Runa’s long and lithe elf body. With just a hint of reluctance, he left her mouth. He guided his length inside her warm body, inch by inch.

Runa’s breathing turned from the swift flow of a steam to the ragged unpredictability of river rapids.

Gustaf let out little pleading grunts and murmurs. His hands wandered up her body, stopping over the gentle rise of her breast. With a slight squeeze he savored the sweet softness of her skin.

His slow, hard thrusts pushed Runa back with each grunt. She wrapped her legs tightly around his waist, angling her hips and grinding back against him.

He gripped her tight with trembling hands, feeling the telltale rise deep with him. Slowly building up the rhythm, Gustaf thrust faster and harder. His clawed fingers ran down the slope of her body, eventually finding their way back to her hip. His fingers dug into her flesh as he gripped her harder, driving himself still deeper.

Runa’s breathing was hot and ragged. She loved the pressure of Gustaf’s firm grip exploring her body. She loved the way desire burned in his vibrant eyes. And she especially loved the way her muscles clenched deep and tight around her favorite goblin. A slow tingle rose in her core, spurred on by Gustaf grinding against her tender zones.Then at once the tingle exploded with the force of her orgasm and she cried out.

Gustaf's pace became frantic and wanton. He teetered on the edge for one agonizing moment before the sound of Runa’s pleased murmurs pushed him over the edge. The world spiraled out of control. Then he tensed and softened, melting into Runa’s arms with a long and satisfied sigh.

Gustaf stayed on top of her for a lingering moment. When he pulled away, the cold air bit his wet skin. Immediately his missed the warmth of her body.

 

Runa nuzzled against Gustaf, pressing his face to her chest as she buried her nose in his hair. Her hands brushed over his scalp, pulling his hair gently and heightening the glow from their lovemaking.

Gustaf dragged himself up closer to Runa’s face, his little body fitting perfectly in the crook of her awaiting arms.

She kissed him fondly on the lips and forehead. Her delicate fingers stoked the spiral of his ear. Her nail clinked against the rings pierced through his cartilage.

“When did you get these?” she asked, her voice laced with affection.

“Many years ago, back when it was still safe for a goblin to visit the human cities.”

Runa brushed back her hair, revealing an emerald stone at the base of her long ear. As she turned her head the gem caught the light, and lit up brilliantly. It looked like a bead of glass with green mists swirling inside.

“It’s a stone from my home city,” she explained. “It contains just a spark of fel magic.”

“It is beautiful,” Gustaf said. Adding cautiously, “Like you.”

With a smile she replied, “I want you to have it.”

“Oh, no. I couldn’t take something important like that,” he protested.

“No, I insist. Maybe it's time I started to give up such things. Find my way back to the Light instead. ”

Before he could object, she unhooked one of his flat gray rings and replaced it with her glimmering green stone. Runa then clipped Gustaf’s plain ring to her empty ear.

“It looked better on you,” he said as he ran his finger over the unfamiliar jewel.

Runa stretched her arms over her head and yawned. “It’s so early but I feel tired again.”

“So do I.”

She pushed herself down so that her head was resting against Gustaf’s broad chest. His heart beat like a hammer against her ear, pounding out a rhythm with a slight warble that made her worry.

“Gustaf,” she whispered.

“What?” he asked, the tone of her voice unnerving him.

“You have a heart murmur. It could mean something serious. Let me-”

“No,” he snapped. “Leave it alone.”

Runa pulled away, looking him square in the face.

“Something this could be fatal if left untreated,” she said bluntly.

Shaking his head, Gustaf replied, “I've already explained that I don't like your method of healing. How much would it take to fix me? An hour? A day? I don't want to live a life stolen from you. I'm not worth it.”

Runa let out a heavy sigh. Although she was not in the mood to argue with him, the discovery of his condition haunted her. She laid back against his chest, listening and feeling the irregularity of his heart until the soft murmur lulled her to sleep.

 

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

 

Runa awoke to an earthquake shaking her awake and repeating her name over and over. She lethargically swatted Gustaf away, preferring to stay safely embraced by sleep’s loving arms.

“Runa, wake up,” Gustaf insisted.

She rolled over and pulled the fur blanket over her head in an attempt to shield herself from his pestering. He ripped the fur away, the comforting warmth replaced by a wave of chilled winter air. Frowning, Runa sat up and glared at Gustaf. He took her face in his hands and kissed her, helping to melt away the irritation freezing over her face.

“What time is it?” she murmured with a yawn and a stretch.

Gustaf loved the way her body thinned and lengthened when she stretched, the way it accentuated her curves. He waited until she was done to answer.

“It’s early afternoon.” Pausing a moment he said, “I’m going out. I should be back by nightfall.”

Curiosity sparked, Runa asked, “Where are you going?”

“I know some of the local merchants from the towns down the mountain-side. We make trades occasionally and I have some things I’d like to offer them.”

“Merchants? Like human merchants? I thought you said that the humans around here were hostile towards goblins.”

“Many are. It’s not safe for someone like me to live in the cities anymore. But I have the best goods to offer when it comes to hides or meat. Most of my old friends are willing to overlook what I am if it means getting a deal.”

Runa frowned. “It still doesn’t sound safe.”

“These are good people,” Gustaf insisted. “I’ll be back by night.”

And with that, he left. 

* * *

 

True to his word, Gustaf came trampling up to the entrance of the cave just as the last rays of light were sucked below the horizon.

Runa and Emile were outside waiting for him.

When Emile first caught whiff of the goblin, his tail swooshed back excitedly, stirring up a small blizzard of snow. He leaped and frolicked over to his master who greeted him with equal enthusiasm.

“You seem to be in a good mood,” Runa mused, standing up from where she had recently created a snow angel.

“I got a good deal,” Gustaf replied, patting the basket he carried. “Goblins love nothing more than a bargain.”

“What did you get then?”

“You’re going to have to wait and see. But come, I see you're already dressed for the outdoors. I’ll grab the lantern.”

Runa eagerly followed as Gustaf led the way. She tried to peek inside his mysterious basket, but whatever was inside was kept effectively covered by a cloth. Emile continuously disappeared and reappeared as he pranced through the snowy underbrush, stirring up sleeping mice from their hiding holes.

“Any news from the outside world?” Runa asked lightheartedly.

Gustaf frowned as he walked. “News?”

“Any developments in the war? Any world-changing events? Anything at all of interest to report?”

“Oh, now why would I be asking someone about that? I don’t give a damn about this infernal war and asking someone in a town allied with the Alliance seems like a bad idea. How long’s it been since you’ve been in a major city?” Gustaf asked.

“A month. Maybe more since I was last in Silvermoon.”

“Well the world doesn’t change in a month,” he growled, irritation blooming in his voice. “You didn’t miss out on anything.”

Runa didn't reply.

Eventually, to break the silence growing awkwardly between them, Gustaf said, “We’re almost there. Just up ahead.”

“It looks the same to me as any other spot in these woods,” Runa remarked, afraid to let the silence back in.

“That’s because you haven’t lived here as long as I have. I’ve come to know almost every inch of this mountainside over the years. And this spot up here is one of my favorites.”

He shifted the basket to his other hand and reached for Runa’s. The path they were on had become increasingly rocky and hard to navigate. Between the rocks gushed a rushing river, its banks engulfed by ice.

Gustaf pointed with his clawed finger and said, “Go over that ridge there. I’ll meet you on the other side. Take the lantern with you.”

Runa looked back at him, slightly unsure.

He ushered her forward with a sweep of his palm.

She gracefully scaled the rock wall, her long limbs making it easy to reach every hand and foot hold. The lantern swinging in her hand sent shards of light dancing over the forest trees. Gustaf watched her climb and disappear over the top. In truth he sent her first because he didn’t want Runa to see the awkward way he clambered over the rocks. His stubby arms and short legs made such a thing very difficult, and with the added hassle of a basket in his arms, he slipped down more than once.

“Gustaf! Are you coming? This is amazing!” he heard her voice echo back at him.

With a grunt and a wheeze he managed to pull himself up to the top. He set the basket down and carefully composed himself before making his way over to Runa.

Gustaf inhaled deeply. The air here was thick with steam and helped to buffer against the cold of the night. There was a quiet mineral scent that gave the area a fresh smell.

Runa was already by the natural hot springs, dipping her slender pale legs into the heat of the water.

“You like it?” he asked with a crooked grin.

Runa beamed up at him. “Very much so.”

“Good.”

The lantern rested at the edge of the water. Its pale light reflected on the surface of the pool, creating the illusion that the water was molten gold. A glance upwards revealed a part in the trees, an opening in the canopy creating a window to the stars.

He sat down beside Runa, pulling the basket over but not revealing its contents.

“Make yourself comfortable,” he said as he shrugged off his jacket and began undoing the buttons of his shirt.

Runa followed his example and began undressing, laying her clothes out where they wouldn’t get wet by the lapping water. She pulled her shirt over her head, momentarily blind to Gustaf’s hungry eyes. The strap of her bra relaxed as she undid the binding, laying it down beside her coat, shirt, and shoes. With a twist of her hips she eased out of her pants, slipping her underwear down with them.

“Oh, so cold,” she said with a shiver.

Slowly, Runa lowered herself into the engulfing warmth of the water. It burbled up around her, lapping at her skin as she submerged up to her chin. She inhaled the steam, loving the smell of minerals and purity.

Gustaf still wore his pants, feeling too exposed to undress further.

“Are you gonna show me what’s in the basket now?” Runa asked playfully.

He gave her an awkward smile, his sharp-as-daggers teeth glinting in the light of the lamp. Encouraged by her lack of modesty, Gustaf relented and took off his remaining garments. He hid in the water before the cold could reach his exposed skin.

“Close your eyes,” he said.

Runa obeyed, the hint of a smile playing upon her lips.

Pulling the basket over to him, he reached in with hands he had kept carefully dry and pulled out a small pot filled with glistening gold liquid. He also took out a piece of bread, cooled by the air but quickly softening from the moisture of the steam.

He tore off a chunk of the bread and dipped it into the gold-filled pot.

“Now open your mouth.”

Again, Runa did as she was asked and was rewarded by a sweet taste cascading over her tongue and filling her mouth with giddy delight.

“Honey,” she gasped after finishing the bread.

Gustaf took a bite, relishing the savory taste.

“I know someone who harvests wild honey down in town.”

“But during this time of year?”

“Honey keeps surprisingly well,” he replied, offering her another bite.

Runa gratefully accepted, her lips brushing over his fingers.

“This is fantastic,” she breathed. “Thank you.”

Her appreciation brought the goblin a crooked smile.

Together they finished off the bread.

 “There’s a tiny bit of honey left. Would you like it?” Gustaf offered.

“Of course,” she said, taking the jar. But instead of eating the honey, she tipped the pot and drizzled the sweet liquid over her chest. It rolled over her soft breasts, glossy in the pale light.

Gustaf’s mouth watered as he leaned forward. Eyes closed, he ran his tongue over Runa’s glistening skin. His lips trailed kisses over her breast, pulling gently at the pink skin of her nipple.

Runa made a soft coo in her throat. She relished the touch of his hands on her body. Goose bumps shot down her arms as Gustaf’s fingers tickled down her sides and came to rest on her waist. The warmth of the water heightened her senses, sending her nerves trembling with each touch.

Having finished the honey and craving more, Gustaf pulled her into a deep kiss. His hand wandered to the crease between her thighs, his fingers massaging pleasure into her core. He could feel himself grow hard.

Runa moaned softly into his mouth.

He moved his hands to her hips, lifting her weightless form onto his lap. Now at perfect eye level with her breasts, Gustaf pressed his face between them and kissed her clean skin. He eased her onto him, eliciting a soft cry from her throat as he stretched into her.

Slowly they rocked back and forth at a gentle pace.

Runa’s sweet spot sung as it pressed against Gustaf. She wrapped her arms around his neck and rested her chin upon the top of his head. She had a perfect view of the stars and he had a perfect view of her chest.

Weightless in the water, Gustaf was able to easily move her at his own rhythm. His hips bucked slowly, building up the pressure with agonizing intensity.

Runa’s spine curled back as she let out a little cry.

When at last he felt the final rise within him, Gustaf let out a raspy gasp. His fingers dug into her skin as he gripped the elf tightly.

Runa’s muscles contracted around his manhood, pulling him deeper into ecstasy.

Together they sighed and panted, stroking one another with shaking fingers.

Runa leaned back with a smile. She brushed back the hair plastered to Gustaf’s face. The emerald jewel in his ear caught the light and sent it dancing back brilliantly.

“I love you,” she whispered into the night.

Gustaf’s breath caught in his throat. Never in his wildest dreams did he think anyone would be able to love a lowly goblin like him, especially not such a fair creature as an elf. His mind grasped the thought and spun it over and over, trying to make sense of the three unfamiliar words. His heart picked up pace and drummed against his chest.

But the moment passed and he said nothing. He only buried himself deeper in her embrace.

Much to his relief, and slight humiliation, Runa didn’t press Gustaf for a response. She merely leaned back and positioned herself in a comfortable recline. From the warm pool of water she could easily gaze upon the stars without craning her neck.

“It’s quite beautiful, isn’t it?” she mused, her eyes dancing with the reflection of the stars.

Gustaf tilted his head, wondering what was so special about the night sky. He wrapped his arm around Runa's waist and leaned up against her.

“It’s too open up there,” he grumbled.

“I think it’s refreshing. Much better than being cooped up in a stuff cave all day.”

“Stuffy cave?” Gustaf questioned with a huff.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to imply anything bad about your home. It’s just… blood elves are creatures of light and life. We don’t thrive in enclosed areas, we need open fields, trees, people, and sunshine.”

Gustaf pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose. “In other words, you aren’t happy here.”

Her smile was soft and sad. “Truth be told, this wasn't where I had expected to end up in life. A few years ago I had a very different set of goals. I wanted a house by the sea with a garden in the sun. I wanted a field of flowers and a sky full of butterflies. I wanted to get married in summertime and grow old. And then the war found me and everything changed. But even if I never get any of those things, I’m still happy to be here with you,” she replied.

Gustaf looked up at Runa, understanding for the first time just how much she'd given up.

“That makes no sense to me,” he growled. “How can you be happy here, when there is so much else out in the world waiting for you?”

Runa ran her fingers across his shoulders and down his arm, smoothing away his anxiety.

“If only you could see yourself the way I do.”

He looked up into her eyes, catching his reflection in her deep emerald irises. For a brief moment something flashed through his mind- a thought so quick that his brain didn’t have time to decipher it. But as soon as the thought was there, it was gone again, snuffed out like a flame into darkness.

Brushing the whole idea away with a sweep of his hand, Gustaf changed the subject by saying, “I have something else for you. It was harder to come by than the honey.”

“Oh?”

From the basket he pulled out another small jar, this one opaque. He snapped the lid off with a pop and held it out for her approval.

“It smells great,” Runa replied with a laugh. “But it’s not food, is it?”

“No, it’s not for eating,” Gustaf replied with a slight chuckle. Taking the jar back, he said, “Actually, it’s soap. If it’s alright, I’d like to wash your hair for you.”

“Of course it’s alright!”

She stole a quick kiss and tossed her long hair back. Her dazzling smile encouraged a small grin from Gustaf who eagerly poured a drop of the fragrant shampoo into his hand. Runa sat between his legs, her back to him. To accommodate her height, Gustaf had to pull himself slightly out of the water. The cold danced across his wet skin and prickled down his back.

He rubbed his hands together to get a good lather up. Running his fingers through her hair, he massaged her scalp. The sweet scent of pale flowers wafted through the air.

Runa closed her eyes and let out a sigh as her muscles relaxed under Gustaf’s firm touch.

The lather ran down her hair, dripping down her shoulders and chest. Gustaf’s fingers worked lower, running over her shoulders. Her skin, now slick with soap, slid easily under his hands. A few times he wandered, gripping her smooth breasts with a squeeze before returning to her shoulders. Eventually he worked his way back up to her scalp, massaging her neck on the way.

Runa purred happily and tilted her head back into the water, washing out the perfumed soap and filling the pool with a layer of bubbles. She felt Gustaf’s arms go around her, embracing her from behind. With another contented sigh, she pressed back against him and closed her eyes.

“This whole night has been so romantic.”

“Goblin’s aren’t romantic. We weren’t made that way,” he grumbled.

“Oh, hush. You need to stop making excuses. Let go and let yourself be what comes naturally to you.”

Gustaf kissed her neck and nibbled her ear, contemplating the elf’s words.

“We should probably head back now,” he said, his voice a shade softer than before.

“Alright,” Runa agreed. She lifted her hands from the water and examined her fingertips. “My skin is getting pruned anyway.”

Gustaf reluctantly pulled himself from the hot spring and wrapped a towel around his waist. From the bottom of the basket he pulled out another towel and held it out for Runa, wrapping it around her as she slipped from the water.

After a quick dry, they each redressed and began the slow trudge home. Gustaf found Runa’s hand, weaving his fingers with hers. He kept his eyes on the path ahead. Runa’s gaze found the stars peeking down at them from amongst the foliage of the trees above.

“I’m glad we had this night out,” she said.

“Yeah,” agreed Gustaf, thinking about their fun in the water. “Me too.”

 

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

The weather was warming up nicely. The cold chill of winter was finally starting to recede. The sun even made a brief appearance before disappearing again behind a slate of white clouds. Runa was outside enjoying the change in weather.

Gustaf had left early that morning on his hunt to replenish their dwindling food supply, leaving Runa alone for the majority of the day. She took the opportunity to venture out into the open. Of course, she didn’t stray too far from the cave, but it was nice to leave the confinement of the shelter for a while.

The snow on the ground was thinning and in some parts the frozen grass was making an appearance. The sight of color warmed her heart. Runa was tired of the white and gray snowy world. She was ready for color, for light, for spring.

The world was beginning to awaken. She could feel the ice thaw from the seeds of life. There was a song in the air. The wind carried the hope of renewal with it, singing through the trees with a gentle current.

Laying on her back with arms outstretched, Runa felt the pulse of the world beneath her fingertips. She could sense the current and flow of life within the natural spectrum. It gave her a great sense of peace and tranquility.

In her mind’s eye she saw the web of life as a colorful kaleidoscope of pale blues, greens, and purples. But there was something disturbing the fluid stream of ever changing hues. Like a black crackle of electricity, Runa felt intense pain emanating from somewhere nearby.

She snapped to attention.

“Gustaf?” she whispered, his name lingering in the air like a bad omen.

Closing her eyes, Runa pressed her hands to the ground. Frowning with concentration, she focused her energy to find the source of the pain. Like a trail of fire, her mind’s eye lit up a path to Gustaf.

Without a moment’s hesitation she took off running.

*** * ***

 

A flock of birds scattered like ink across the ash white sky. Emile’s ears perked to catch the sound of the flock’s screeching warning. He whimpered once and trotted over to Gustaf’s side. Gustaf, too, was watching the sky. The arrow in his hand was resting against the string, unfired. Something else had startled the birds. Something close.

His large batty ears strained. His eyes warily scanned the tree line.

He had been hunting a rare stag, but now he feared he was the one being hunted.

Something moved between the trees, a dark shadow amongst the shade. Instinctively Gustaf crouched low, his bow taut and ready. As soon as the shadow moved into his line of sight, he released the arrow. It screamed through the air and hit its mark. There was a sharp cry and a human body collapsed with a sickening thud. A moment later the air exploded with the sound of dogs barking and howling.

Gustaf knew better than to confirm the kill. He needed to move.

But he couldn’t go home. Not yet. That would leave a trail straight to Runa.

He began hurrying off in the opposite direction, hoping to leave a confusing path that would have the hounds running circles. As he ran, he was oddly reminded of his nightmare. The world seemed to speed up around him, leaving Gustaf slow. A human voice, its language garbled and incomprehensible, echoed through the forest.

Emile scampered after Gustaf. He pranced over the melting snow with a flourish. Gustaf pounded after his fox, clutching his aching chest.

The humans were close but their dogs were closer. One broke through the underbrush, snapping at Emile. The agile fox easily evaded the hound’s fangs. Gustaf wasn’t so lucky. A second dog, twice the size of Emile, bolted at him with teeth bared. The dog’s bite latched around his ankle, bringing Gustaf thudding to the ground. He kicked out at the beast, reaching for the dagger hidden in his shoe.

The dog was trained not to let his quarry go. It remained latched onto his boot, even as Gustaf drove the knife straight through its eye. He pried the dead hound off, not willing to lose his boot for a few precious seconds.

The goblin sprung back to his feet, carefully aiming an arrow at the mongrel focused on Emile. The beast cried out and fell as the sharpened point tore through its heart. Emile was scraped up, but he didn’t seem to have any major injuries.

“Come on, Emile,” Gustaf called, his breathing ragged.

The fox sprung over to him and together they crunched their way through the forest. They’d covered just a few yards before two large humans burst into the clearing behind them. For a moment they were stalled by the discovery of the dead hound. But the head start didn’t last long.

The humans' long legs were able to easily cover twice the distance in half the time it took Gustaf to run.

His heart was pounding furiously. It felt as if a tight fist hand been clenched in his chest.

A sudden pain in his ear spurred on his frantic feet. An arrow quivered in a tree up ahead, its buried tip covered in Gustaf’s blood.

He dodged around a tree, eager to break line of sight with the archers. He took the opportunity of cover to reload from the dwindling reserve of arrow in his quiver.

“Emile,” he breathed. “Go distract them. But be careful.”

Following visual cues from his master’s hand signals, Emile leaped out into the open and drew the attention of the two humans. With their sights focused elsewhere, it gave Gustaf a chance to let loose three arrows before they caught on.

One of the humans was disabled by the bite of Gustaf’s weapon. The other one was unscathed.

“Come!” shouted Gustaf.

Emile immediatly ran back to him.

A third dog came braying after them. It circled around Gustaf and Emile, snapping at them and attempting to herd them back towards its awaiting master. Emile, startled by the sudden appearance of the larger predator, hid behind Gustaf.

The goblin fumbled with his bow, but a throb within his chest made him drop the arrow. He reached down and hastily tried to rearm his weapon, but an enemy arrow struck him in the shoulder and dislocated his arm.

Gustaf howled with pain and fell to his knees.

The human moved in closer while his dog kept Emile distracted. He spoke in a foreign tongue, his strange voice filled with hatred and hostility. After barking an order at his dog, the hound lunged at Emile. The fox whimpered and growled, flailing around in the strong grip of the beast’s jaw.

Laughing, the human spoke again. A question this time by the infection of his voice.

Gustaf shook his head, unable to understand.

Frowning, the human kicked the goblin while he was down.

Gustaf coughed and sputtered up blood.

Again and again the man struck the helpless goblin.

The edges of Gustaf’s vision dulled. Blackness began to take over, spreading over his vision like a slowly burning back flame. The pain began to subside, even as the human continued to beat him.

Gustaf braced himself for the end, but a familiar voice rang out and revived his senses.

The beating stopped. Silence hung heavy in the air.

All Gustaf could do was groan and roll over, clutching his chest. The numbing pain rolled over him, threatening to pull him down to the darkness. Through the blood that seeped into his eye, Gustaf caught the sight of Runa staring horrified at him.

“Run,” he tried to say, the pain sealing his voice away in his hoarse throat.

Runa shook her head as if she understood and focused her attention on the human.

When she spoke, her voice was the same strange language of the man.

“Stop,” she commanded.

The human looked at her with surprise. Then his face melted into a contemptuous sneer.

“You must be the healer we’ve been sent to track. I’ve lost a lot of friends to this goose chase. I see now that you've been hiding out with this filthy mud creature.”

He adjusted the crossbow in his hand, aiming it down at Gustaf.

“He can’t even beg for his life,” the human laughed, pressing his boot to the goblin’s temple.

Runa cringed. “Please, don’t hurt him.”

“What? You want to bargain with me for his life? I suppose you’ll offer to give yourself over in return for sparing him.”

She watched the man warily, her eyes narrowing.

“No. I think you’d kill him anyway and try to take me regardless.”

With a swift motion, Runa pulled a short dagger from her boot. The same one Gustaf had given her and taught her to hide.

The human let out a hearty laugh.

“What do you plan to do with that toothpick? Is that the best you can do?”

“You need healers for your war. I can sustain an entire army in battle for a week. But I’m worth nothing to you dead.” And with that she pressed the blade lightly against her wrist. A smirk twitched on her lips as she said, “How’s that for a bargain?”

The man lifted his boot from Gustaf, growling under his breath. He shouted at his dog. Emile fell limply to the ground in a puddle of his blood. Sheathing the bow, he said, “We know where you are now. I’ll find you again. I swear it. The bounty on your head grows daily. Eventually your luck will run out.”

“Turn around and keep walking. Don’t stop until you get to the nearest town.”

She whistled and nodded up towards the trees where a flock of small songbirds were perched.

“They’ll be my eyes. I’ll know if you stop before then.”

He backed up slowly, palms up to show he was unarmed.

“Whatever you say,” he grumbled.

As soon as the human was out of sight Runa ran towards Gustaf. Her knees buckled as she reached him and gathered his limp body into her arms. Immediately she began drawing up her healing energies, preparing to pour whatever she had into mending her goblin’s broken body.

“Don’t,” he wheezed. “Not for me.”

Runa wouldn’t listen to him. Not this time.

She wrapped her arms around him, holding him tight and tender.

Gustaf didn’t have the strength to fight her. A tear rolled down his cheek as the warmth of Runa’s touch cascaded over him, wiping away all his pain. As his body mended he thought of her life draining away.

Runa stroked his hair and kissed his head.

“It’s okay,” she whispered. “Everything is going to be alright.”

He felt a tingle of light skip across his forehead, sewing up the split skin. The pain in his chest subsided, replaced completely by a strong vitalic pulse. Every tiny ache was soothed away. When Runa was done there wasn’t a scratch left on him.

Even so, Gustaf felt tired. His eyes unwillingly fluttered shut.

It seemed like only a moment later when he opened them, but he found himself back at home, wrapped tightly in a fur blanket. Emile was curled up next to him, twitching in his dreams.

“How do you feel?” Runa asked when she saw he’d awoken.

She handed him a mug of bitter tea as he sat up.

Grumbling low, Gustaf admitted, “I feel stronger than ever.”

“That’s good,” Runa replied with a smile. “I’ve made some dinner for you, when you are ready.”

Gustaf ran his hand through Emile’s thick fur. His mind wound itself in circles recalling every moment of the day’s events. He felt his cheeks light up when he realized Runa must have carried him all the way back to the cave.

“What’s wrong?” Runa asked. “You look flushed.”

She placed the back of her hand against his forehead, but Gustaf swatted her away.

“It’s nothing,” he growled.

“Oh, um, okay,” she muttered, pulling back her hand as if he’d struck her.

Gustaf remained in a state of irritation for the rest of the night. He couldn’t quite decipher why. The sound of Runa’s soft breath in the darkness stirred up the embers of Gustaf’s anger. His heart throbbed, though the pain was not physical.

Part of him was furious that Runa had wasted a fraction of her life to heal him. Gustaf knew he should be thankful, and he was, but the anger overwhelmed his sense of gratitude. He didn’t think he was worth the sacrifice.

Because of his mood, Gustaf separated himself from Runa. He couldn’t kick her out of the bed, it was the warmest part of the cave. But he kept the elf at a distance by placing Emile between them.

The night dragged on and on. Gustaf’s mind ran in circles, keeping his tired body from much needed rest. Eventually he dragged himself from the bed and pulled on a layer of warm clothes. Emile perked up, but the goblin motioned for his fox to stay. He hoped some fresh air would help to clear his mind.

  
  


 


	9. Chapter 9

The pale light of morning followed Gustaf back into the cave. His mood had evolved from hot anger to a cold determination. But his resolve began to crack at the sight of the sunlight kissing Runa’s pale skin. She certainly had a way of pestering the butterflies in his stomach.

A heavy weariness descended upon Gustaf. He collapsed, allowing gravity to pull him down into the comfort of his bed. Emile had moved and no longer provided a barrier from Runa. Within moments she rolled over and wrapped herself around him. Gustaf couldn’t bear to disentangle himself from Runa’s tight embrace. She inhaled and sighed into his hair, murmuring something in her dreams.

The heat of her breath stirred up a familiar reaction in him.

The touch of Gustaf’s body against her coaxed Runa from her dreams. With a dreamy sigh she turned over and pressed her back against him, eliciting a further reaction.

Gustaf chewed his lip and struggled against the feeling taking hold. This wasn’t what he intended to happen. He was supposed to be distancing himself. He was supposed to let her go. Instead he found his nose buried in her soft hair, drinking in her scent like the sweetest nectar.

Runa pulled his arm over her, kissing his hand before slipping his finger in her mouth. With a gentle suck she shattered Gustaf’s resolve.

He melted into her, pressing his firmness into her tight warmth.

Letting out the slightest of moans, Runa pressed back and pushed Gustaf deeper inside. His hand wandered down to her tender breast, his other hand tangled itself in her hair. Gently, he pulled back, titling Runa’s head so he could steal a kiss.

Runa set a slow pace for Gustaf to follow. Her hips pushed back at the same time Gustaf thrust forward. Each press of their bodies elicited a small whimper from her throat. Arching her back, Runa allowed Gustaf to thrust to the hilt.

His hand crept from her breast down to her parted legs. He gently caressed the soft skin of her thigh, brushing his fingers through her soft wisp of hair. Eventually he found his way to her clit. Maintaining the rhythm of their grinding hips, Gustaf’s fingers began a sensual massage.

Their passion simmered, slowly drawing to a boil.

Each thrust made Runa squirm deliciously. Gustaf pushed against her with long, firm strokes, relentless with the stimulation. He could feel the twinge of her inner muscles tightening around him. Gustaf’s breathing and Runa’s gasps grew louder and heavier.

The fill of Gustaf deep inside her pushed Runa towards the edge of euphoria. His gentle fingers moving tenderly over her slick skin was enough to send her body spiraling out of control. Her muscles clenched and she let out a long, satisfied sigh. A few slow thrusts later and Gustaf found his release. A wave of pleasure crashed over the couple and they melted into each other’s arms.

 

“I’m glad to see you’re feeling better,” Runa said, panting between words.

Gustaf felt as if a fist made of ice was clenched around his heart. Runa felt him tense.

He grunted and turned his back to her.

Sighing, Gustaf replied, “Runa… I don’t think you should stay here any longer.”

The words nearly tore his heart right from his chest.

Runa was quiet.

The silence stretched out like a blanket of despair. The empty air was maddening and finally drove Gustaf to mutter, “You must hate me for this.”

Runa shifted behind him. He felt her warm lips upon his shoulder.

With a gentle kiss she replied, “I could never hate you.”

Her reaction was worse than he imagined it would be. Guilt tore at his chest, leaving long streaks of hot regret. Gustaf had mentally prepared himself for this. Or at least he had tried. He braced himself for anger, for loathing. Acceptance was the last thing he expected.

Runa swept a strand of hair behind his ear, but Gustaf still couldn’t meet her gaze.

“I should have left weeks ago,” she said, her words tinged with sadness. "The human was after me. To put your life in danger for my own needs... it was selfish and unforgivable."

Anger rose in Gustaf’s voice as he snarled, “Don’t talk like that.”

Tenderly, Runa reached out and touched the side of Gustaf’s face, coaxing him to look at her. His eyes flickered across the floor and darted through the room before cautiously raising to Runa’s level.

Her smile was all too inviting, her lips all too tempting.

Gustaf swallowed and pushed his emotions down to the pit of his stomach.

“I’m not doing this for me, Runa,” Gustaf snapped, reverting to the safety of anger. “I promised once that I would keep you safe and I see now that I can’t do that keeping you holed up in here.”

“It’s not your responsibility to protect me,” she reminded.

“You don’t belong in a cave with a filthy bad-tempered goblin," he said, running his hand through his hair, sighing through his sharp teeth. “There would never be an ideal time to tell you. But I do have a plan. I know a group of troll nomads. They travel through these woods every spring and bring me news from far off countries. I’ve known them for years and I trust them. They will take care of you. They will lead you out of this war’s territory.”

Gustaf found his gaze had wandered away from Runa’s. Shame pulled his eyes back to hers.

The elf wore a thoughtful gaze. “How long?”

“What?”

“How long until the Trolls get here?”

“I don’t know,” he replied. “A week. Two weeks maybe. Spring is coming fast and they are always on the heels of winter.”

“Well that still gives us some time then.”

“Time for what?” he questioned.

“Time to spend together,” she said.

His voice softened by a fraction as he admitted, “I wish you were angry with me. I wish you would yell and scream and tell me what a horrible, vile creature I am. It would make this easier.”

“It’s alright, Gustaf, I understand why you are doing this. We agreed from the start that I couldn’t stay with you permanently. It was only a matter of time.”

Gustaf’s face flushed deeply as he said, “Dammit, Runa. I’m doing this because I love you. Because last night I realized that you will never be happy with me. That I can’t fulfill your needs. I want to protect you but the only way to do that is to send you away, far away. I don’t want you to have to sacrifice your life for anyone ever again.”

Runa was touched. Her heart filled with a bittersweet warmth.

“Tell me we’ll meet again,” she whispered. “I’ll wait as long as it takes.”

He looked deep into Runa’s eyes and saw her home forests reflected back in the emerald pools.

“I'll be leaving my home here in the cave. Don't try to find me. When this war is finally over, I will meet you in Silvermoon,” he said with a swallow.

Runa’s face brightened with a smile so hopeful it broke Gustaf’s heart. He didn’t have the will to tell he that he didn’t think he would live that long.

* * *

 

Gustaf and Runa spent the next week and a handful of days basking in the glow of their eternal promise. They savored each other’s bodies, grew drunk off the passions they shared. As time whittled away, they grew closer. Each moment was filled with enough happiness to last a lifetime. For a while they forgot about the future. Together they lived in the present, making memories to take on the long journey ahead.

When the day finally came and the nomads arrived, it was a jarring shock to the comfortable and repetitive life they had almost grown accustomed to. It was with a heavy heart that Gustaf let his little elf girl go.

He knew he must, that it was what was best for her. But seeing Runa on the trained raptor, ready to ride out of his life forever, threatened to implode his heart.

He pulled his favorite orange scarf from around his neck and approached the massive beast that Runa was perched upon.

“Runa?”

She looked down at him, her eyes filled with resolute love.

“Here,” he said, reaching up as high as his short arms would allow. “Take this.”

Runa graciously took the scarf from him and wrapped it around her neck. Gustaf’s familiar scent filled her nose as she inhaled deeply.

“I hope it keeps you warm,” he mumbled, voice cracking.

“Thank you, Gustaf. For everything. Remember that you are allowed to be happy. Don’t resign yourself to loneliness. You’re worth so much more than you give yourself credit for.”

He nodded, unable to speak.

The lead nomad pulled at the reins of his mount and the line of ambling kodo and nimble raptors began to move.

Panic jolted through Gustaf's heart as Runa's mount started after the line of nomads. They locked eyes.

Suddenly Gustaf was running forward, his feet reacting before his brain could catch up.

“Runa, wait!” he called.

She pulled her raptor up to a halt while the nomads trodded slowly on.

His sharp eyes darted between hers, his mouth fumbling for words. Finally he blurted out, “I want a house by the sea and garden in the sun. I want flowers and butterflies and a summertime wedding. Runa, please, marry me! I have no ring to give, no vows to say. But I promise I will find you when the war is over. I will give you the life you dreamed of and make up for everything you have lost.”

Gustaf flushed, his heart pounding vigorously. He felt it might burst if she rejected him now.

The surprise of his words wiped all emotion from her face. Runa blinked down at him. Then she smiled. Then she laughed a laugh like ringing church bells. Her smile lit up Gustaf's soul.

“Yes.”

He watched as his new bride rode off into the sunset, taking his heart along with her.

As Gustaf turned back to his cave his finger ran over the rim of his ear, flicking against the green gem Runa had left him. A smile crept over his lips as he allowed himself a brief moment of happiness reliving their passionate adventures.

 


End file.
